Moving to D.C. invigorates any newcomer to the nation's capital. Finding our way around the numbered and lettered streets divided into four confusing quadrants in addition to navigating the perplexing, colored Metro lines poses a challenge in itself to any visitor. Toss in the plethora of monuments and statues, familiar and strange, which fill the urban city, D.C. leaves a hunger to see and explore a new area each day. After an exciting, but long and exhausting first week of interning-- and an exciting day touring the National Archives and Air and Space Museum--the third floor quad woke up Saturday morning absolutely depleted of any energy we mustered from the first few days. Grey and dreary clouds filled the D.C. skies hinting at a rain to come, and nothing stood in our way of staying in bed to enjoy a lazy day. A few hours after lunch however, something kicked in. Whether it was Capitol Hill cabin fever or an insatiable thirst to discover the hidden gems of our new town, three of the upstairs young men decided to take in a few hours of fresh air. Inspired by former president and enthusiast of the great outdoors Theodore Roosevelt, we set our hearts, minds, and the GPS on our phones to head for the island dedicated to the namesake of America's 26th commander-in-chief.
As we left the building for what we knew would turn into quite the trek to McLean, Virginia, our worst fear became reality. The heavens opened up. While my roommates questioned the reasoning for the uncanny timing, wondering whether God wanted to heed us caution of our foreboding journey across the Potomac River, a different vision came into mind for me. Suddenly, as we passed the Capitol Building only a block from the start, my inner Tim Robbin's overcame my spirits and I lifted my face up toward the downpour. I finally escaped the Shawshank cell of our house, and the time for my redemption had arrived. We carried on and drudged our way across the mall. Over a mile later, we reached the Washington Monument, the first major site of the evening. By now, the sun had fully set, though in honesty its light never pushed through the clouds that now blocked all stars (if the pollution did not take care of that job already). We snapped a few photos as we stood in awe at its base. From there we continued toward the World War II Memorial in search for the Ohio pillar. After several minutes of walking in the wrong direction around the 7.4 acre memorial, we eventually identified the unmistakable four lettered name for the Buckeyes State engraved in granite: O-H-I-O. As we approached the pillar, we found a group of visiting middle school students in our way. Dripping wet, with fear of pushing our way through the throng of preteens, our luck came through when a teacher kindly split his students like the red sea to make a path for us to our beloved Ohio memorial. Once we made it through the seemingly never-ending crowd, I had my two roommates capture me forming an an "O" over my head to document the our first major D.C. adventure. Despite two different teachers mistaking us for students on our way out, reminding us to "hurry to the bus, boys!", we walked onward to finish what we started.
We crossed the 2,163-foot Arlington Memorial Bridge, only getting slightly lost, and walked a lengthy distance of dark sidewalk along busy roads until we stood before a tiny footbridge. We had arrived to the entrance of the island, marked by a sign "Open until 10 PM" though truth be told the reigning 7 PM darkness merited an early close in my mind at least. Despite my protests to wave the white flag and head back, we walked across the final footbridge, into the pitch-black, straight out of a horror film woods that filled the deserted park. We followed sign after sign that we could barely read, truly hoping no trouble would obstruct our path. At long last, it stood before us. The seventeen foot statue of Teddy, right arm extended fiercely in the air towered over us both physically and mentally. As we stood in silence taking it in, we questioned for a moment, is this it? We walked all this way... for a statue? Though other plaques marked the grounds, they remained invisible to us in the darkness, and eventually we left.
In truth, I admired the lack of material presence. After what surprisingly turned out to be thirty minutes, I felt myself leave the woods with a Walden revelation. I found myself appreciating the lack of objects and memorial words, taking in the nature to which President Roosevelt devoted much of his leisure time. Humbled by the nature surrounding us, we cross back over the sketchy footbridge, walked up the road, and agreed to give our soaking feet a rest and succumb to riding an Uber home. We returned dripping wet into the warm dry building, and changed our clothes. Once again in safety, light, and dryness, the indoors comforted us. Yet, the yearning for fresh air soon returned to me. I understood that before a night passed, there was no better time to start planning our next D.C. odyssey.
As we left the building for what we knew would turn into quite the trek to McLean, Virginia, our worst fear became reality. The heavens opened up. While my roommates questioned the reasoning for the uncanny timing, wondering whether God wanted to heed us caution of our foreboding journey across the Potomac River, a different vision came into mind for me. Suddenly, as we passed the Capitol Building only a block from the start, my inner Tim Robbin's overcame my spirits and I lifted my face up toward the downpour. I finally escaped the Shawshank cell of our house, and the time for my redemption had arrived. We carried on and drudged our way across the mall. Over a mile later, we reached the Washington Monument, the first major site of the evening. By now, the sun had fully set, though in honesty its light never pushed through the clouds that now blocked all stars (if the pollution did not take care of that job already). We snapped a few photos as we stood in awe at its base. From there we continued toward the World War II Memorial in search for the Ohio pillar. After several minutes of walking in the wrong direction around the 7.4 acre memorial, we eventually identified the unmistakable four lettered name for the Buckeyes State engraved in granite: O-H-I-O. As we approached the pillar, we found a group of visiting middle school students in our way. Dripping wet, with fear of pushing our way through the throng of preteens, our luck came through when a teacher kindly split his students like the red sea to make a path for us to our beloved Ohio memorial. Once we made it through the seemingly never-ending crowd, I had my two roommates capture me forming an an "O" over my head to document the our first major D.C. adventure. Despite two different teachers mistaking us for students on our way out, reminding us to "hurry to the bus, boys!", we walked onward to finish what we started.
We crossed the 2,163-foot Arlington Memorial Bridge, only getting slightly lost, and walked a lengthy distance of dark sidewalk along busy roads until we stood before a tiny footbridge. We had arrived to the entrance of the island, marked by a sign "Open until 10 PM" though truth be told the reigning 7 PM darkness merited an early close in my mind at least. Despite my protests to wave the white flag and head back, we walked across the final footbridge, into the pitch-black, straight out of a horror film woods that filled the deserted park. We followed sign after sign that we could barely read, truly hoping no trouble would obstruct our path. At long last, it stood before us. The seventeen foot statue of Teddy, right arm extended fiercely in the air towered over us both physically and mentally. As we stood in silence taking it in, we questioned for a moment, is this it? We walked all this way... for a statue? Though other plaques marked the grounds, they remained invisible to us in the darkness, and eventually we left.
In truth, I admired the lack of material presence. After what surprisingly turned out to be thirty minutes, I felt myself leave the woods with a Walden revelation. I found myself appreciating the lack of objects and memorial words, taking in the nature to which President Roosevelt devoted much of his leisure time. Humbled by the nature surrounding us, we cross back over the sketchy footbridge, walked up the road, and agreed to give our soaking feet a rest and succumb to riding an Uber home. We returned dripping wet into the warm dry building, and changed our clothes. Once again in safety, light, and dryness, the indoors comforted us. Yet, the yearning for fresh air soon returned to me. I understood that before a night passed, there was no better time to start planning our next D.C. odyssey.
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